


Double Digits

by Eproth



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s), Pre-Project Freelancer, Project Freelancer, Red vs. Blue References, rvb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21936724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eproth/pseuds/Eproth
Summary: The leader board means everything in Project Freelancer, and if you're not at the top then you're not worth the Directors time. For the forty agents in the Double Digits, their time is spent in constant competition to one up their teammates, blissfully unaware as to what the Director is orchestrating behind closed doors.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	1. Red and Blue

“Hey”

“Yeah…”

“D’you ever wonder why we’re here?”

Two agents stood at a viewing window, their exchange taking place as they overlooked the ships hangar. The two shared a similar armour configuration; grey Mark VI with an ODST helmet. Though one featured a red trim whilst the other, a blue. A silence echoed for a moment before the blue spartan turned and responded;

“Not really… I thought we were here to meet the new recruits”

“No no, I mean here, as in Project Freelancer.” Oregon clarified. He continued to stare out of the window, watching as crew hurried around the deck, each preoccupied with their own meaningless tasks.

“I mean… I signed up. Didn’t you?”

“Well… yeah” Oregon conceded “But don’t you get the feeling there's more to the project than they’re letting on?”

Montana let out a slight chuckle “You’ve been listening to Jersey again haven’t you”

“No!” He snapped back “Well… maybe a little. But I think he’s actually onto something this time.”

Montana shook her head disapprovingly “O, the dude’s a paranoid nut-job. I’m sure if you were to bust into his bunk right now you’d find him stripped to his undersuit, eating dead flies off the window sill.”

“We don’t even have window sill’s...” He sheepishly corrected.

“Exactly! He’s insane”

Oregon shrugged a little “Eehh, I mean, sure. I’ll admit that he’s wrong a lot of the time, but even a broken record is right twice a day.”

“Watch.” She interjected

“Watch what?”

“...No, a broken watch-”

Her explanation was rudely interrupted by the appearance of their so-called superior, Agent Louisiana. He walked slowly towards the two, his hands behind his back and his head held high. The bright bulb in the center of his chest plate contrasted against his black and green armor, and he judged the two agents from behind his crystal blue visor. 

“Well, well, well... Don’t you two think you should stop standing around talking and get back to work?”

“What do you mean? We are working. We’re waiting for the new recruits to arrive.” Oregon defended, turning and folding his arms.

“Oh yes? And who asked you to do that?” Louisiana interrogated.

“The Director himself, actually.” Montana chimed in “Apparently they’re bringing a particularly important package with them”

“Well, I wasn’t informed of such a delivery”

“There’s a surprise” snickered Oregon. Montana giggled as Louisiana shot the pair a foul look, before turning and speaking into the radio.

“Councillor, this is Agent Louisiana. Did the Director happen to ask Agents Oregon and Montana to oversee the arrival of new recruits? It’s just that they’re here standing around and I find it hard to believe that if there were a new batch of Agents, the Director wouldn’t have asked me to welcome them aboard.”

Oregon and Montana looked at each other, trying to piece the conversation together before looking back at Louisiana

“No no. It’s Louisiana. You asked me to report into you. Hello? Sir?”

The pair hid their grins behind their helmets as Louisiana composed himself.  
“ Must be interference” He told himself. “Right. You two with me. There’s no way I’m leaving you two up here to-”

His beratement was cut short but a loud explosion from the hangar as the viewing window exploded inwards, littering the gallery with glass. The entire room was dipped in red light as flashing lights and sirens kicked in. Relatively unscathed, the agents picked themselves up and peered over the ledge, only to find a fiery inferno of what can only be assumed to be a pelican smashed into the wall beneath them. Burning in its wake was a path of destruction left from where the bird presumably skidded through the hangar bay.

Within a moment, the three were down on deck, their weapons at the ready as maintenance crews prepared to extinguish the fires. The cockpit and engines were engulfed in flame but the hull appeared to be intact. Oregon and Montana looked at each other before slowly moving towards the ship. Was it their recruits? Insurrectionists? The ship looked ready to blow at any minute.

Suddenly, the rear ramp dropped, it’s mechanism clearly failing as it smashed down to the ground with a loud thud. Silhouetted in the fire of the cockpit, a man stumbled down the ramp, clutching his right side. The three Freelancers approached slowly, and despite him being clearly unarmed, they were still wary as to who the figure was. As he stumbled closer, maintenance crews moved in to extinguish the flames behind him. Despite the sound of the alarms and burning wreckage, it was clear that he was struggling for breath as he tried to speak;

“Agent Carolina… Reporting for duty…”


	2. The Package

The roar of the engines made conversation difficult. The rattle of loose parts made their silence unbearable. In the rear of the pelican sat two new agents: South Carolina and Missouri. South Carolina looked around the ship, hanging buckles from the ceiling swung and clanged against the wall repeatedly and he couldn’t help but hear what sounded like a loose nut on something inside the wall behind him. On the floor between the two agents was a small hard case, about a meter cubed, fastened to the ground with a large heavy duty strap. He noticed that none of the chairs had seat-belts. Or harnesses for that matter. He could already tell where the Project had its priorities.

South Carolina looked up at his new ally, who had yet to say a word to him. “They tell you what this thing is?”

Missouri shook his head.

Carolina leaned in to inspect it, giving it a light tap on the side. “Probably some kinda prototype weapon.” Carolina added. “Little strange they’d send it with us though don’t you think?”

A head popped out from around the cockpit door and joined the conversation; “Apparently, Innies got word of the package, so the director ordered it to be shipped with you two to avoid suspicion”

Taken off guard by the pilots interjection, but yearning for any sort of conversation, Carolina's questioning continued. “So you know what’s in it?”

“Pfft, no. I just got told to get _it_ and _you two_ safely aboard the Mother of Invention.”

Missouri piped up; “You say the Insurrection got word of the package?”

“He speaks!” cheered Carolina

Ignoring Carolina's addition, the pilot responded “Apparently so. It was supposed to be shipped tomorrow but they figured it'd be safer if it came in with you guys.”

Missouri paused for a moment “Doesn’t that make us a target?”

“Unless they want one of you guys dead specifically, we should be in the clear.” The pilot responded, diverting his attention back fully to the controls. 

Almost on cue, the crew were thrown into the back of their seats as a giant explosion erupted from the right engine.. Carolina knew he wasn’t lucky enough to attribute it to coincidence. “You were saying?!” He exclaimed as he leapt from his seat and darted for the cockpit.

“My point could still stand…” The pilot worryingly reminded. 

Missouri was at the rear window peering out of it, he shouted up to the cockpit; ”What’s the damage?”

Carolina watched as the pilot hastily flipped controls and checked screens, all whilst pulling hard on the control stick to try and counteract the engine failure.

“Right engine’s damaged. LZ isn’t too far, I might be able to keep her steady” The pilot held down a button and the crackle of a radio fills the cockpit. “Mother of Invention, this is Two-Thirty-Eight. We are under attack. I repeat. We are under attack. We’re currently 7 clicks from the LZ with no sign of the hostiles". He shouts down to Missouri; “Anything on our tail?!”

“Negative. Radar?” he replied.

“It’s clear.” A worrying thought as they were clearly under attack by something. Up front, the two scanned the skies and shoreline for any threats. A glistening, caught the pilots eye from a few miles down the beach. A moment passed before the realisation hit him. “SNIPER!” He exclaimed, but before he had a chance to react, his brains were blown out over the back of his seat.

“FUCKKK ME!” Carolina exclaimed, ducking down. The pilot slumped and the craft started to dive. Carolina reached out and grabbed the control stick, yanking it in the opposite direction. “Uhmm… Pilots down!”

As the pelican started to climb, Carolina rolled the pilots corpse out of the seat and took the controls, attempting to keep the belly of the ship facing the origin of the shot.

Missouri noticed the pilots body slide through the doorway as bird gained altitude. “Did you catch the location of the shooter?” he inquired.

“Yeah, ‘bout 5 clicks, 2 o’clock, just off the shoreline.” Carolina replied through gritted teeth as he furiously pulled back on the control stick. “I’m trying to keep her steady but if I straighten out they’re gonna have a clean shot on us.”

Missouri huffed and then unhinged a sniper rifle from the room of the pelican. “In a moment I’m going to open the rear bay.” The weapon clicked as he loaded a magazine “You’re going to have to spin the ship around, It should give me a decent line of sight.”

“Are you insane? You’re not gonna snipe him from here!” 

“What’s the alternative? Huh?” exclaimed Missouri. “We’re not going to reach the LZ unless we fly right at them, at which point they will have ample opportunity to take us out. Or, you show your belly until they finish off the engines and we plummet into the icy deep.” 

“I can make it” Carolina assured.

“And I can take them out. Trust me!” Missouri demanded. Carolina’s hands were wrapped firmly around the control stick but there wasn’t much time before the plane would start to stall. As much as he hated to admit it, if they didn’t do something quick they’d be dead for sure.

“Fine!” he conceded. “Pop the hatch!”

Missouri yanked the lever down, slowly releasing the door. The whistle of the brisk winter wind sang past his ears as he took a deep breath; drowning out all the noise. In that moment he heard nothing but silence. “On three.”

“One.”

“Two…”

“THREE!”

Carolina twisted the control stick, spinning the pelican 180 degrees so that the rear was facing the sniper. Missouri’s finger hugged the trigger, his cheek pressed up against the butt of the rifle as steadied his aim from his crouched position. He pinned his target. The deadly glisten of a scope reflecting the warm sun.

*BANG*

Carolina’s head darted around at the piercing sing of the sniper shot, only to get a glimpse of Missouri's dead body before it flew out the back of the Pelican.

“OH JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” Carolina shook his head, almost in annoyance before accepting his inevitable doom. Another Sniper shot echoed close, hitting somewhere in the rear as Carolina span the craft back towards the LZ. 

His fingers burrowed into the radio button the pilot had used earlier; “This is Agent Carolina to the Mother of Invention, I am two clicks south of your position. My pilot is down and the Pelican is critically damaged. I need assistance, over?!”

…

“This is Agent Carolina, does anybody-” The whole ship shook violently as the right engine finally gave out and started to lose altitude. “CAN ANYBODY READ ME? OVER.”

Black smoke billowed from the left engine as another stray sniper shot knocked it out of commission. The entire cockpit was illuminated with flashing warning signs of all colours and a range of dangerous beeping noises. Both engines were down. The pelican had passed the snipers position, and with every second he got further away, the harder a target he was to hit. The rear bay was still open, and through that gap, the sniper took their final shot. The round threading through the bay of the craft, right up to the cockpit and clipping Carolinas right side. He cried out in pain as he gripped his side, slamming buttons to close the rear door. At this point though he was effectively out of range

In the distance, salvation emerged from the clouds, the Mother of Invention hovered effortlessly over a small mountain range. _I can make it_ . Carolina thought to himself. _I have to make it._ The ship was losing altitude fast. It’d be a miracle if he made it to the ship, let alone landed it. Thankfully, he had gained the altitude early which meant that all he had to do was graciously glide the bird back into the hangar. That’s not so hard right?

As he got closer he tried to radio ahead one last time. No response. This was it. All he had to do was not crash into the ship. Too high and he’d come in too hot, too low and he’d clip the lip. For someone with little ariel combat experience he was pretty proud of his performance thus far. He could totally pull this out of the bag. And if he couldn’t, then he really didn't have to worry about it anymore. With the moment upon him, he took a deep breath and blasted through the shield door, the ships deceptive speed being highlighted to him as the ship smashed onto the deck, scraping across the length of it as it headed for the wall. He watched in horror before diving from the cockpit into the rear, moments before the front of the plane smashed into the wall, immediately igniting. The heat from the engines and now blazing cockpit was extremely apparent, and it was clear to him that the entire craft would soon be but an inferno. 

He thanked shock. The sniper round that had grazed his side didn’t really feel all that painful, but as he hastily picked himself up off the floor, he noticed a rather glaring omission.

The package was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agents South Carolina and Missouri: http://fav.me/ddn1axk


	3. Recovery

White light filled Carolina's vision as he slowly opened his eyes. The room was perfectly polished, reflecting the light and amplifying the brightness. He found he was laying in an infirmary bed, his armour was removed and resting on the bed next to him. As he sat up, he was painfully reminded of his sniper wound. He let out a groan and clutched his side, alerting the attention of the three agents across the room. The wound was bandaged tight, and they had clearly done something as it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would.

Carolina could see Louisiana mention something to Montana and Oregon before he dashed out of the room. The pair looked over at Carolina's bed, slowly making their way over.

“Well, look who’s awake…” said Oregon

“How are you feeling?” Montana added, bracing herself against the foot of the bed.

“I’ve woken up worse.” Carolina responded

“Well, I’m glad you’re still with us. I’m Montana. This is Oregon.” Montana introduced the pair. Oregon gave a nod.

“Agent Carolina” he introduced himself to the duo. They looked at each other briefly before turning back to him.

“Yeah… you said that before you passed out” Oregon reminded “I’m assuming _South_ Carolina?..”

“Uh-huh” Carolina nodded

“You see… people kinda just call Carolina… Carolina. They don't specify her state.” Montana spoke as though she was revealing a terrible truth. 

“That’s fine, I guess you can just call me South”

“Yeah… People tend to call the Dakota Twins North and South” Oregon added.

“Well what did people call the old South Carolina?”

“We all called him Carl.” said Montana.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to use our real names?” questioned Carolina

“Oh no, we’re not. His real name was Toby.” said Oregon “It’s just that Carl is kinda like Carl-ina. So we just went with that.” 

Carolina stared at the pair, shocked to find they were entirely serious. “How about you call me SC?”

Montana and Oregon looked at each other, silently reviewing his request. Montana gave an approving and satisfied nod “That works.”

The mechanical whoosh of the infirmary door whistled as it slid open, allowing several men to enter. In the front, an older gentleman, with a sleek grey outfit and thin rectangular glasses that partially obscured his emerald green eyes. He moved with a purpose, making his presence known from the moment he entered the room. Oregon and Montana's glanced at the door, caught off guard by the Directors arrival they hastily stood beside each other at attention. The counselor and Louisiana followed closely behind him, and as he got closer to the Agents, he addressed them with his deep southern accent.

“Status report, Agent.”

“Nice to meet you too, Sir.” said SC. He was aware of who the Director was but had yet to meet him, having all prior interactions with the Counselor.

The Director snarled at the recruit before reiterating; “Status report.”

“Missouri and the Pilot are KIA sir. I took a hit but I’ll be alright.”

“The package, Agent. What is the status of the package.” The Director's voice raised, eager to get his information as quickly as possible.

“Gone sir.” SC revealed. Estimating the importance of the package, SC seemed surprised how little he himself was fazed by the loss of such an important asset. As far as he was concerned he had made it out with his life, which was far more valuable.

“Define gone, agent.” The Director had already grown tired of the rookie. He knew that SC could figure out what information he was looking for, but was refusing to give it easily.

“Gone. As in, they don’t have it directly, and neither do we.” SC clarified. He had already confirmed the directors priorities, and was being difficult simply to spite his new boss. “Their sniper was good. Clipped the buckle off the hard case from a couple miles away. It must of tumbled into the ocean at some point.”

The Director looked away in frustration for a moment, before turning to the Counselor; “Prep me a four man team. I want agents combing the shore and beneath the flight path. I want that package recovered no matter the cost!” He stormed out of the room, barging past Louisiana as the Counselor swiftly followed. 

The door slammed shut behind them and Oregon and Montana exhaled, finally returning to ease. The agents looked at one another in silence before Oregon spoke;

“Welcome to the Project.” 


	4. The Leaderboard

“The other Carolina is number 1?” SC questioned as he reviewed the leaderboard. It had been a day since he arrived, and thanks to the wonders of modern medicine his sniper wound was healing nicely. Accompanying him once again, were Agents Montana and Oregon, this time in the mess hall where the pair sat across from him. The light murmur of conversations resonated from various tables, each one claimed by a specific clique. People tended to stick with the same groups, whether that be based on ranking or personalities. Some preferred to keep to themselves. As for SC, he sat facing the wall sized leaderboard, wondering what sort of group he had elected to join.

“Yep, and I’m pretty sure she’s always held it.” replied Oregon.

SC was pulled back to the conversation. “Well, what position am I at then?” he asked, mildly annoyed the screen only displayed the top ten.

“New agents start from the bottom. So... 50, I suppose.” Montana took a sip of her coffee.

“-Well hang on” Oregon interjected “Surely he’d be 49?”

Montana displayed a face of realization, gesturing her mug at him “Right, because Missouri’s dead.”

Oregon was taken back a bit “Crudely put, but I actually didn’t think of that. I’d say 48 then.”

“Wait, why? What’s your reasoning?” SC asked, feeling somewhat out of the loop

Oregon took a bite from his apple but continued to speak “There’s no Texas. Never has been. Reserved apparently”

“Why?..” SC inquired

Oregon shrugged as he swallowed the bite “Beats me. You think they tell us anything around here?”

Montana and Oregon continued eating as SC thought of more questions. It was about half seven in the morning, presumably passed the peak breakfast hours as there definitely weren’t 50 agents in the room. He looked back at the leaderboard. Montana and Oregon were sat apart, as to not obscure it for him. 

Number 1: Carolina. 

Number 2: York. 

Wyoming.

Maine,

South Dakota. North Dakota, Georgia, Utah, Washington, Connecticut.

The top ten were all that mattered. And he had a long climb ahead of him. He had thought of his question.

“So. What rank are you guys at?”

The pair looked at each other for a moment, and as Montana was about to speak, another Agent quickly jumped into the seat between them, slamming his tray onto the table. He pointed a thumb at Oregon and then at Montana. “23 and 21” the stranger revealed, putting his arms around the pair and pulling them in closer.

They laughed slightly and shook him off. “Rhodey, this is the new South Carolina.” Oregon introduced their fresh companion.

“Damn, another one so soon? Carl’s only been dead a couple weeks” Rhodes expressed his surprise which was quickly diminished as Montana elbowed him in the side. 

SC chuckled at the sight. “Nice to meet you Rhodey.”

“Nice to meet you too, man.” he replied “But I gotta warn ya, if you can’t get above 45 by the end of the week, then we can’t let you sit with us.”

SC was taken off guard by the almost highschool threat. Although it wasn’t presented like a threat, more an entry requirement. Granted, it didn’t seem too harsh a condition, but to lay it on the table immediately seemed a little blunt.

Montana tutted “Oh, don’t listen to him, you’ll get passed 45 easily.”

“He is right though, if you can’t best the triplets, we can’t really be seen with you.” Oregon admitted.

“The Triplets?” SC questioned. First twins, now triplets, it seemed the project had an obsession with siblings.

“They’re not really triplets.” Rhodey clarified “We just call them that because… Well, I don’t know why, we just do.”

SC’s head was in a cloud of confusion. There were way more pointless intricacies about the project than he had anticipated. 

“Look, bottom line, the Triplets aren’t very good. You survived an ambush before you even got in the door. You’ve already done more than they ever have. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” Montana reassured.

SC nodded in affirmation before asking “So what do I have to do to move up the leaderboard?”

“Anything.” replied Oregon “Essentially, get noticed. Missions, Sparring… Anything can affect your position. You just gotta make sure the Director likes it. I remember Penny got moved up a spot for a coordinated raid on the mess hall once, but I think the Director was just in an unusually good mood that day.”-

The groups attention was diverted to a commotion the corner of the room, where the sound of a metal tray reverberated as it hit the ground. Everyone looked over to see a trio of light blue Agents, timidly huddled together as a group of four other agents stared them down. The blue agent in the front, held her hands out as if she was still holding the phantom tray that had just been knocked from her hands. SC could only assume these were the triplets.

The orange spartan of the four, leered over the triplet, clearly making some sort of threat but SC couldn’t quite make it out. The instigators laughed with each other as they barged passed the triplet, storming into the mess hall as she scrambled to gather her breakfast off the floor in their wake. 

SC watched attentively as they marched in, freezing as they locked eyes with him from across the room. SC certainly stood out, his armour was a garish red with teal accents and ice blue visor, and was likely the only one in the room the soldiers didn’t recognize. They stomped towards him, and SC looked behind himself with the hope that they were fixated on some other target. He wasn’t that lucky. And as they made in his direction, likely not with the intent of a warm welcome, SC sized them up.

The Orange agent lead the pack. He was pretty well built, featured a white trim and a helmet that looked incredibly pissed off. SC gleaned the hint of a small leather sheath attached above his rear, likely containing a knife. Beside him, another agent with a similar build. His armour was a dark grey, and had noticeably large triangular patterns in mint green across the chest and helmet. Unlike his ally, his helmet gave no indication to his emotions. There was practically no visor at all, just a small hole on the top right of the almost brick-like head piece. He moved oddly too. Stiff, and calculated, and despite their similar builds, he seemed to be far heavier. Behind him, followed a tall Agent dressed in brown and green. His helmet featured a bulky peak, that extruded out like an enlarged forehead. It cast an ominous shadow over his verdant visor. The final agent was decorated in a dark blue with metallic gold accents. Her helmet was a dome, with no discernible visor of any kind, instead featuring several raised bumps that gave an almost arachnid impression. 

SC watched anxiously as the four approached his table. He looked over at his companions, who shifted their weight in their seats, readying themselves for something. 

“South Carolina!” the Orange agent shouted as his group neared the table. SC lifted his legs over the bench, spinning around and standing up to face the man. He looked him in the eye.

“What can I do for you?” SC replied with a stifled gulp

“You can tell me why you and your little buddies are in here eating french toast, whilst we’re out there cleaning up your mess.” the Orange agent asked, the pitch of his voice insinuating he didn’t really want to hear an answer.

“Mess?” SC queried

The dark blue agent pushed to the front of their group “The fucking mess you made of the package dipshit. We been up and down that flight path for fourteen fuckin’ hours!”

Montana shot up at the table “Hey! Lay off him Del, he was in recovery...”

Delaware stepped closer to SC, until she was mere inches away from him. “Looks fine to me.” she accused. She admired her own reflection in his visor, the party's eyes fixated with bated breath.

Oregon pulled his head from his hand, addressing the Orange agent “Come on Mary, how about we all just calm down and talk about thi-”

His sentence was punctuated with Maryland's combat knife being stabbed into the table, his piercing gaze being arguably sharper. 

“DON’T CALL ME MARY!” he snapped as he yanked his knife from the table, stepping towards SC and barging Delaware to the sideline. 

SC held his footing, his eye tracking the blade as the knife wielding maniac peered down at him. If his accuser had wanted him dead, he could have easily done it. He liked to assume that Agent’s killing each other would be frowned upon; Meaning that this gang was only trying to intimidate.

“If you want to fight, let’s fight.” SC proposed. “Otherwise, quit wasting my time.”

“Oooooo.” Maryland looked back at his crew, a slight chuckle at the brashness, before swiftly bringing his knife up to SC’s neck and holding him against it. Everyone around the table shot up, pinned to their positions by the glares of his posse. 

“Whoa okay okay okay!” SC exclaimed, somewhat doubtful of his previous assessment. “If you’re in no doubt that you’re better than me. Then let’s fight. Officially. Where you’ll get praised for winning, rather than reprimanded.”

Maryland thought on this proposition for a moment. 

“Okay.” he decided, retracting the knife from his victim’s throat. “Training floor. 12 o’clock.” He pointed the knife at SC as he backed away, signalling to his gang they were leaving. Delaware shot SC a middle finger before joining Maryland in their exit.

SC exhaled in relief, and glanced over at his friends. They stood frozen behind their table with faces of bewilderment. “What?” he shrugged.

It took them a beat to formulate an answer.

“Are you insane?” exclaimed Oregon “You just challenged Maryland to a match”

“Is that bad? What rank is he?” For a moment, SC regretted the decision, but if the options were getting diced up 10 seconds ago or beaten up in 5 hours, the latter seemed irrefutably preferable.

“Maryland’s only at 19, so it’s not that bad...” Montana responded

“ _Only_ at 19? Our man’s at 48!” Rhodes reminded, speaking as if their new red friend wasn’t in the room.

“Yeah, okay. But he could be really good. We don’t know.” Montana looked back at SC “You are really good right?”

“Yep” SC replied with an unconfident nod. 

Oregon’s face had found its way back to his palm. “Let’s hope your right…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visual aid for Maryland, Delaware, Nevada and Indiana: https://imgur.com/EKHe1su


End file.
